Combat Carl's Confession
by Mike9305
Summary: With Combat Carl's feeble life flashing before his eyes as Sid prepares to blow him up, he confesses a secret of his true self under the soldier exterior. His final moments at the Phillips residence were not so sweet.


The sun rose majestically one hot, summer day in the neighborhood of Andy Davis. Sid Phillips was resting on his mattress, shoes on, butt in the air, the works. Suddenly, his alarm clock began blaring loudly, its baby doll-attached arm wiggling about as it fell to the floor of his bedroom. Sid sat up and gave a tiny yawn. He stood up, unaware of the many cowering and fearful eyes watching his every move from the security of under his bed.

"Man, what can I do today?" Sid asked himself out loud, looking around his room for something to entertain him for the morning. He had just been kicked out of summer camp and he now had the rest of the summer to himself. He pulled his closet door open, hoping to find something to do in there. He dug through the moldy Pizza Planet burgers and dirty socks to find some firecrackers.

"Cool!" he exclaimed merrily, stuffing them inside his back pocket. Now he needed to find something to blow up. An old dictionary? No. Sexy high-heel shoes? Nah. A Combat Carl action figure? Perfect! Sid pulled the tiny toy out from under the gigantic mess in his closet, slamming the door shut. He grinned down at the tiny army man, revealing his crusty brace face. Ewww!

"All right, men," Sid suddenly said in an official sounding voice. "We have a life-threatening mission we need you to carry out. There's no backing out now," he said, dropping the plastic man onto his bedroom desk and pulling the firecracker out of his pocket. "We're going to have to use a sacrifice," he said. "We've called you in, sir!" Sid dug out some duct tape from his toolbox and taped together the Combat Carl and the explosive.

"Well this blows," Combat Carl thought to himself with a sigh. "Oh, well. Living under a pair of moldy underwear wasn't that great, either."

"This is Sid Phillips reporting," Sid picked up the toy and began walking out of his bedroom. He pulled his door open. "We have the human sacrifice ready. Sir yes sir!" Sid quickly ran down his staircase and ran through his kitchen.

"SID, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT FOR BREAKFAST?" his mom screamed angrily, hung over as hell after a night on the town with her lesbian, crack-addict girlfriend she found in Las Vegas.

"Pop-tarts!" Sid replied as he hurried out the back door in the laundry room and out to his backyard. His dog, Scud, was gracefully sniffing his feces and devouring them. What a beautiful creature.

Sid set the Combat Carl in the middle of the yard, positioning him upright. He turned his back and began heaving a picnic table across his yard. Inch by inch he went.

"Is this going to take all day?" Combat Carl thought with a bored sigh as he scratched his ass hastily. That suit sure was uncomfortable, not to mention ugly!

Sid finally managed to get the picnic table by his little sister's sandbox and he turned it onto its side, sitting up straight, its tabletop facing towards his neighbors, the Davis', house.

"Those people are douche bags," Sid thought to himself as he set a cinderblock by the picnic table with his brute 10-year-old strength. Badass right thar. The young boy then began skipping around his yard like a wild animal and throwing sticks and stones at the poor, defenseless toy.

"If I weren't a toy I would shove a baseball up your ass so high you would be begging for mercy you little motherf-" a rock nearly flew into him. "HOLY CRAP!" The Combat Carl squealed to himself. "I'm going to die! I'm going to die! I don't want to die! I want to go back into my closet house and stay rotting in there. Oh, woe is me! I'm not really a soldier! I'm actually a natural born chef! But my parents didn't have any money to send me to school so I went to the army and then your grandma bought me for you for Christmas and now LOOK AT ME!" The army man cried tears of plastic as Sid took a crap behind his shed and wiped his butt with an owl. What.

After Sid finished his duties, Scud ate up his poopies. Sid sighed and threw more sticks and stones and weed and bones at the frozen toy. Get a life? Finally, it was almost time to light the match. Sid began cackling evilly, throwing his hands in the air and laughing to the high heavens.

"Get on with it, faggot," The Combat Carl sneered. Meanwhile at the unself-proclaimed douche bag household next door, a couple of tiny toys climbed up on the window sill of young Andrew Davis's bedroom. They spied on Sid with their toy binoculars.

"Oh no, it's a Combat Carl," a stuffed cowboy reported grimly to the surrounding toys.

Sid continued to laugh wildly, throwing more things at the toy. He finally picked up the cinderblock.

"Oh, here we go," Combat Carl rolled his eyes mentally. Sid chucked the hunk of cement at the toy, but missed anyway.

"Douche," the toy thought happily.

"We've got to do something!" a plastic space ranger said to the other toys next door.

"What're you doing? Get down from there!" a young slut by the name of Bo Peep yelped worriedly as the space ranger hopped to the edge of the sill. She took her cane and grabbed his arm with the hook. Kinky.

"I'm gonna teach that boy a lesson!" The astronaut said determinedly.

"Yeah, melt him with your scary laser!" the cow boy mocked, pressing the space ranger's plastic light bulb "laser."

"Be careful with that!" the other toy scolded, and the stuffed cow boy rolled his eyes.

"HE'S LIGHTING IT, HE'S LIGHTING IT!" the pair of light blue binoculars shrieked. Everyone turned.

Sid ran up to the Combat Carl with a match, finally getting back to basics so to speak. He lit the firecracker with glee and merrily skipped away. The Combat Carl said its prayers and exploded.

"I HATE YOU ALL," the toy thought in frustration as his head flew over the fence and into the neighbor's driveway. Suddenly, Mrs. Davis sped into the driveway, running over his head and crushing it as she screamed the lyrics to a Twisted Sister song, her son and daughter in the backseat, mortified, after a Sunday drive with their ma. Oh, I just love these people. Sid bounced around happily, the deed done.

"He's gone! He's history!"

"The sooner we move, the better…" Bo Peep murmured. Suddenly, Sid ripped his clothes off and did the disco naked in his backyard. "On second thought," Bo Peep quickly said, watching intently as the 10-year-old's Twinkie bounced profusely.

"Ew, he keeps baked pastries in his underwear at all times!" Rex gagged and threw up over the window sill.

"Mommy, why is there orange vomit in my hair?" Andy asked sweetly.

"BECAUSE GOD HATES YOU, BITCH!" his mother screamed and they all went inside. And Sid had pop-tarts naked. The end.


End file.
